


Runaways

by atholbrose



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blood and Injury, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Mentions of Gun Violence, Mentions of Violence, Robbers AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-14 00:17:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10524942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atholbrose/pseuds/atholbrose
Summary: "You want the moon? I'll steal you the moon! I'll even get some stars for you, my love!" Mila proclaims.a.k.a the MilaSara robbers AU nobody asked for





	

**Author's Note:**

> You know that moment when you get an AU idea in your head and it just won't go away until you write it? Well that's the backstory of this fic. This is my first attempt at MilaSara so I hope it's not too OOC. I originally intended to keep it nice and fluffy, but I got really into the AU and made myself sad. Whoops. Just as a warning, morality is pretty grey in this story. And there's a spoiler for Thelma and Louise at the end of the first scene. Anyway, I hope you enjoy *vague hand gesture* this.

i.

Sara waits patiently in the car, one hand gripping the steering wheel, the other hanging through the open window. It’s hot today. She already feels her t-shirt clinging to her back because of the sweat. She glances at her watch, then at the small gas station she parked next to. Three minutes.

Sara wants to turn on the radio, but she’s not in the mood for country music, and until they leave the desert she knows that’s the only frequency she’ll get. So she taps her thumb against the wheel, humming a tune she heard in a movie last week. Four minutes.

She catches her reflection in the rear-view mirror. She’s grateful for the round sunglasses hiding the dark circles under her eyes. She promises herself she’ll get an early night after this is done. She hears a high pitched scream from inside the station’s convenience store. Showtime.

She starts the engine just as the door of the store is kicked open. Sara watches Mila back away, holding a gun pointed at the people inside, and carrying a large bag in her other hand. Still keeping an eye on the store she runs towards the car and gets inside in one swift movement.

“Step on it,” Mila urges, her voice slightly muffled by the black bandana that covers half of her face.

Sara wastes no time and accelerates, leaving the gas station behind in a cloud of dust. Mila pulls down her bandana and closes her eyes. Sara lets her catch her breath before saying anything, but occasionally glances at the passenger’s seat, where the redhead is still shaking from the excess adrenaline.

“I think I scarred a few grannies for life,” Mila speaks up, earning a chuckle from Sara. “But at least I got what we came for,” she adds with a gentle pat on her bag.

Sara doesn’t take her eyes off the road, even though she’s curious how much money they earned from their little escapade. Mila’s low whistle is a telling sign.

“Babe, I think tonight we can afford a room in a nice hotel.”

Sara smiles and glances at her girlfriend, who’s holding stacks of dollars and grinning like a child on Christmas morning, her bandana half-hanging around her neck. She finds the scene oddly endearing.

“Take me out for dinner first, then we can negotiate retreating to a hotel room,” Sara says.

“It would be my absolute pleasure,” Mila replies, as she leans closer and rests her hand on Sara’s thigh. “Can we start the negotiations with a kiss?”

“Don’t distract the driver,” Sara sing-songs.

Mila laughs, but doesn’t move her hand.

“Are we going to drive off a cliff? Because you know how much I love Thelma and Louise, so that would be a great way to go,” she muses.

“Nobody’s dying today, you owe me a decent dinner,” Sara replies.

But deep down she agrees they’d have to go down in a blaze of glory. She can’t imagine any other way.

 

ii.

Sara counts the money and neatly stacks the bills on the rose-coloured hotel sheets. It’s already a habit of hers, she finds putting things in order to be very therapeutic. When she feels soft lips pressing against her shoulder she doesn’t turn around, only smiles to herself.

“Mm, why are you up so early?” Mila mumbles into her shoulder.

“Sun is up, so why shouldn’t I be?” Sara asks, fiddling with some crumpled dollar bills.

Mila sighs and falls back on the bed, yawning loudly. When Sara finally turns around, she sees her girlfriend rubbing her eyes, her hair a messy red halo against the white pillow. Sara wants to snuggle next to her and fall back asleep.

“Do we have to get up now?” Mila asks grumpily.

Sara can’t help but laugh. Mila is certainly not a morning person, but Sara thinks she’s still adorable. So she lays next to her and trails light kisses on her neck.

“No, we don’t have to get up right now,” she whispers, and Mila hums happily.

They don’t always have moments of simple bliss, but when they do Sara wants to fully embrace them.

“I love you,” Mila murmurs as she drifts back to sleep.

“I love you too,” Sara replies in between kisses.

 

iii.

The two girls stumble out of the bar, both hysterically giggling. The parking lot, empty at this hour, looks almost ethereal in the orange and pink hues from the neon signs and street lights. Mila squeezes Sara in a sideways hug and they’re both still laughing at how Mila drank a scary-looking biker under the table. Everyone in the bar probably concluded that you should never challenge a Russian to a drinking game.

“Well that was fun,” Mila comments, “Where shall we go now?”

“It’s like 4am, waaay past our bedtime!” Sara exclaims, louder than she intended. Mila kept passing her vodka shots throughout the night, so there was no chance of sobering up.

“Oh come on, the night is still young, how about we have some fun? My treat,” Mila adds as she pulls a wallet out of the pocket of her leather jacket.

Sara looks at the unfamiliar wallet in confusion, then it all clicks and she bursts into giggles again.

“So _that’s_ why you were getting handsy with that guy!”

“Well duh, why else would I want to get _that_ close to a man?”

Mila stops for a second, then a smirk forms on her face.

“What?” Sara scoffs.

“You were _jealous_!” Mila practically yells and Sara tries to shush her.

“I was _not_!”

“Aww baaabe!” Mila coos as she wraps her arms around Sara and gives her a sloppy kiss. “You’re so cute when you get jealous, but there’s no need to be. I wouldn’t trade my stunning, brilliant girlfriend for anything in the world.”

“Ugh, shut up, I wasn’t jealous,” Sara mutters, blushing at the wave of compliments.

“Let me make it up to you,” Mila says as she runs her fingers through Sara’s smooth dark hair. “What do you want tonight?”

Sara looks up to the sky, where the full moon looks pale compared to the blinding neon lights surrounding them.

“The moon,” Sara replies.

And it’s meant to be a childish answer accompanied by drunken laughs, but Mila grows determined.

"You want the moon? I'll steal you the moon! I'll even get some stars for you, my love!" she proclaims.

And Sara laughs and buries her face in Mila’s neck because she’s just so ridiculous, and adorable, and perfect. She mumbles something about shutting up and being embarrasing, but she can’t really focus on her words when there’s such a warm feeling of happiness bubbling inside her. She wants to be like this forever, wrapped in Mila’s arms, making plans about stealing the moon. She’s happy now, she truly is.

 

iv.

“You know what I like best about dollars?”

Sara lazily opens her eyes and stares at the roof of the car. She tries to change her position but the backseat is too tiny to be comfortable. She’s wearing her sunglasses, hoping they’ll prevent sunlight from making her headache worse. They had a wild night, as they often do after a job, and Sara is feeling the aftereffects. Mila, on the other hand, seems perfectly fine as she's counting a handful of bills. She's lounging at the front of the car, her back resting against the passenger door and her legs stretched over the driver’s seat.

“What?” Sara asks, reaching for the bottle of water she bought that morning.

“The colour,” Mila replies. “Green is so soothing.”

“It’s the colour of envy, isn’t it?”

Mila lets out a small hum. And it sounds as bitter as the taste Sara has in her mouth after too much drinking.

“When I was a kid, I would spend my summers at my grandma’s house. She lived in a small isolated village where everybody knew each other. Small, tight-knit community and all that,” she glances at Sara to see if she’s listening. Sara notices and gives a faint nod. Mila replies with a half-smile.

“One day, the whole village was thrown into a frenzy. One of our neighbours was found dead in his own home. Naturally everyone was scared, thinking that a criminal had invaded their peaceful community. But after some investigation it turned out that the man had been killed by his son. His own flesh and blood ended his life, just like that.”

Mila extended her hand, and Sara passed her the water bottle. She drank a bit then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Why did he do it?” Sara asked.

“When he finally confessed he said he did it for money. The old man didn’t include him in his will so he felt cheated and got angry. He murdered his father to get his hands on a lousy inheritance. How sad is that?”

Sara doesn’t reply. Instead she pushes her sunglasses up her head and tries to adjust to the light. Mila notices how tired she looks.

“Are we bad people?” Sara asks quietly.

Mila pulls her legs underneath her and shifts in her seat to somehow get closer to Sara.

“Honey, no,” she replies, upset that her girlfriend would even consider such a thing. “Why would you think that?”

Sara is silent, but Mila can read her too well. Even when there are a million unspoken words between them, Mila can guess most of them.  She’s aware Sara has to fight off her inner demons every single day. They both do.

“You know why,” Sara answers quietly.

Mila does. There’s a moment of silence between them, and it’s one of the few times when it’s not comfortable.

“We’re not bad people,” Mila repeats, this time with more certainty. “At least we never hurt our parents.”

“Not physically,” Sara replies dryly.

To that Mila has no counterargument.

 

v.

Mila hisses as the wound stings under the cold water. She bites her lip and tries to gently wash the area without hurting herself even more. The water underneath her feet is stained red and her skin feels raw.

“Do you need anything?” Sara asks softly from the bathroom doorway.

“I’m good, thanks,” Mila replies, gritting her teeth.

She doesn’t need to make eye contact to feel Sara’s concerned stare. She entered full panic mode when Mila returned to the motel with her shirt soaked in blood. There are always risks associated with their lifestyle, and while both of them are fully aware of these, it doesn’t make it easier to see your lover bleeding out in front of you. The gravity of getting stabbed lost its intensity after Mila stitched herself up several times during her rogue life.

“You should have let me come with you!”

Sara’s tone is harsh. Anybody would consider it a display of anger, but Mila knows better. Sara is consumed by guilt. She wasn’t there when things went wrong so she couldn’t do anything to prevent Mila from getting injured. Sara hated feeling useless. 

“It wouldn’t have made a difference,” Mila calmly replies, letting the water run down her face. “The guy would have still carried a knife.”

She turns off the shower and reaches for the discoloured towel hanging nearby.

“Besides, I couldn’t stand you getting hurt as well,” Mila adds as she steps out of the shower. “And I’m fine, see? I can walk, I can talk, and I’ll heal in no time.”

Sara quietly takes the towel from Mila’s hands and inches closer to pat dry the wounded area. Mila can barely feel her fingertips brushing against her skin, but she still gets goosebumps.

“Babe, it’s fine…” Mila repeats, this time barely a whisper.

“It’s not,” Sara replies just as quietly.

She continues patting her lover’s skin gently with the towel and Mila can’t stand the silence between them. As if reading her mind, Sara finally speaks.

“It would kill me. Losing you, I mean. You’re all I have left, the only reason I have to get up in the morning. I couldn’t live in this unfair messed-up world without you.”

Mila stares at Sara, who’s avoiding eye contact, focusing on the movements of the towel instead.

“Look at me,” Mila pleads.

Sara hesitates. When she finally looks up, Mila sees tears in her eyes.

“I’m not going anywhere, okay?” Mila clarifies as she gently caresses Sara’s cheek. “It’s going to take more than an idiot with a knife to get me out of the picture. And I will never, _ever_ willingly leave your side, understood?”

Sara slowly nods and Mila kisses her forehead. She realises she needs to lay down for a bit as her legs almost imperceptibly wobble. In another instance of telepathy, Sara wraps Mila’s arm around her shoulder to hold her body weight.

“I got you,” she murmurs. “Now let’s get you to bed.”

“Ah yes, the next logical step after getting me naked.”

A hint of a smile tugs at the corner of Sara’s mouth. Of course Mila would find innuendos even after being seriously injured.

“All you’re getting in bed is rest,” Sara comments, keeping her tone stern. “I’ll make sure you have a full and speedy recovery.”

“So you’re going to be my personal nurse? I thought you weren’t into roleplay.”

“ _Dio mio…_ ”

 

vi.

Sometimes they pretend they’re living normal lives. When they stop in places where shop owners are friendly and chatty they’ll make up all kinds of stories about themselves. Sara’s current favourite is the one where she’s a writer trying to finish her first thriller, and Mila is the loving fiancé who is building their house from the ground up.

“Well gosh, ain’t that the most romantic thing?” The elderly woman swoons as she packs Sara’s toiletries in a paper bag. She’s short, has a pair of round glasses with very thick lenses, and is wearing a mint cardigan that Sara really likes. “I remember when my husband Stanley and I built our first house. It looked more like a shed than a cabin, but for us it was home. That’s all you really need for a home anyway: someone you love.”

Sara nods and looks out the shop window to see Mila leaning against the car, smoking a cigarette and reading an old paperback.

 

vii.

They don’t talk about everything. Mila thinks the ‘you need to tell your significant other everything’ advice is bullshit. Maybe that works for normal couples, but not for them. Because some parts of their lives are dark. There are skeletons in their closets and demons in their pasts. And Mila is well aware they shouldn’t be brought up.

Mila doesn’t know everything about Sara. Can’t always pinpoint her emotions or know what she’s thinking. But she can make assumptions, and most of them are true. She assumes that every time Sara sits on the edge of the bed to blankly stare out the window, refusing to eat or even talk, it’s because she’s thinking of her family.

Cutting ties with family is hard, Mila can agree. But for Sara it was incredibly difficult having to leave her twin brother behind. Mila doesn’t act like she understands what it’s like to separate from someone you’ve shared almost every day of your life with. When she wants to imagine the feeling, she pictures having to wake up one morning and discovering that Sara had vanished. She feels a terrible ache inside her each time so she doesn’t want to think what would happen if that situation eventually came true.

Mila doesn’t think Sara’s pain ever went away. It just transformed. It went from quiet sobs in the middle of the night, to being woken up by nightmares, and eventually it turned into days of silence. Sara’s pain probably stopped being an ache, and became a void instead. Because that’s what Mila sees on Sara’s bad days – emptiness. An empty stare, an empty heart.

Mila wishes she could fill the void. She knows that Sara wishes that too. But a lover can’t replace a brother, and they’re both aware of it. So when Sara has her bad days, Mila is always there for her. But she never asks questions, never tells her to snap out of it. She’s just there as a comforting presence. Bringing her food and tea, or putting another blanket over her shoulders.

Sara doesn’t speak of him anymore. Michele, her brother. Mila remembers a time when he was present in all of Sara’s stories. She even briefly met him once. But that was back in their old lives, before they became runaways.

She vaguely remembers his features, most vividly the striking purple eyes that Sara shared and Mila adored. He was overly protective of his sister, but Mila was never seen as a threat. Probably because she wasn’t a man. The only time they met, he gave her a quick glance and simply said “Promise you’ll take care of my Sara”. It was a silly thing to say because they were just going to the cinema at the time. But Mila remembers solemnly nodding. She’s been keeping that promise for years.

 

viii.

“Do you think there’s still hope for us?” Sara whispers in the middle of the night.

They’re in a seedy motel room again because the money’s run out and the last job was a complete bust. Mila blames herself for it.

“Yeah,” she replies trying to be comforting, but her own voice betrays her.

She’s scrubbed her hands raw, but she swears she can still feel the blood dripping from her fingers. Mila sometimes wishes she could scrub her soul clean.

 

ix.

Mila throws her suitcase into the car and slams the door closed. The heat is unbearable even though she’s only wearing denim shorts and a sleeveless shirt. She puts on her sunglasses and gives the motel once last glance. She never gets sentimental about leaving places, but she liked it there. The bathroom tiles were a pretty shade of violet.

“Ready to go?” Sara asks from behind the steering wheel.

“Sure, babe,” Mila replies.

When she gets in the car she sees Sara dancing in her seat to a pop song on the radio. Mila giggles and turns up the volume. Feeling encouraged, Sara starts happily singing along. Mila loves how cheerful and carefree she looks, as if she hadn’t knocked out a man with the handle of her gun just hours before.

“Why don’t you quit this life of crime, honey, and become a pop star instead?” Mila laughs.

“Because then you’d get jealous of all the fans,” Sara replies smugly.

“Touché,” Mila adds.

And then, as if on cue, both girls start singing the chorus. It’s like they’re teenagers again, driving to the mall on a Saturday morning without a care in the world. It’s a song about running away with someone, and Mila appreciates how well it fits. They’re runaways with the open road ahead of them, and she wouldn’t want to have anybody else beside her.

“I love you, you know that?” Mila shouts over the music. “I love you to the moon and back!”

“I know,” Sara giggles. “I love you too!”

Then she takes her eyes off the road for a second to smugly glance at Mila over her sunglasses.

“By the way, you still haven’t stolen the moon for me yet.”

Mila is caught off-guard, surprised that her girlfriend remembers their drunk night in a parking lot from months ago. She smiles widely and leans in to plant a kiss on Sara’s bare shoulder.

“Not _yet_ ,” Mila murmurs against her skin.

She sounds so convincing that Sara actually imagines Mila bringing her the moon on a string like a balloon. But even in this scenario, if she were to choose between holding the moon and pulling her girlfriend close for a hug and a kiss, Sara would always go for the latter.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm happy I posted this, otherwise the AU would have sat in the back of my head for many more months. There were plenty more headcanons for this, but I stuck to nine scenes. Comments are highly appreciated! 
> 
> Bonus: songs I listened to a lot while writing this:  
> The 1975-Robbers  
> The Killers-Runaways


End file.
